Who'd be dark
and dank and run
the risk of giving,
opening up to let
the rank smell
of mind corruption
bind them to
another's swank
imagination.
slither through
watch the mind
twist and turn
through all the
rationalisations
of might have beens
and she asked for its
and that shivering
spirit in the shower
washing the blood
away, running down
My legs matting
the hair, hot copper
smell mixed with the
steam and a scream
running through My
mind watching it pool
and circle and be swallowed
by the hole in the bath
and we'll pretend it never
happened, never was,
wasn't me, I wasn't there
and head pressed against
the cold tiles
while I scrub clean
and all the time
that wide eyed
silent scream just continues.......
next?